


Cleaning Crew

by mahadevi



Category: Gintama
Genre: 5 Things, Fluff, Humour, Shinpachi Is An Angel And I Love Him, The General Gintama Shenanigans, emetophobia warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 05:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21314965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahadevi/pseuds/mahadevi
Summary: Shimura Shinpachi is known by many things. The Straight Man. The Sidekick. Glasses. And... that's kind of all, actually.But he has one other title that, while unknown, is fundamentally vital to the workings of the universe.Or, 5 times Shinpachi cleans up a mess and the one time something’s cleaned up for him.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou & Shimura Shinpachi, Kagura & Sakata Gintoki & Shimura Shinpachi, Katsura Kotarou & Shimura Shinpachi, Shimura Shinpachi & Shimura Tae, Shimura Shinpachi & Takasugi Shinsuke
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	Cleaning Crew

Wednesday mornings in Kabukicho are alright.

Shinpachi’s no longer at risk of getting jumped every three minutes, so for the most part, his walk is peaceful. It’s still too early, _way_ too early to be awake, he’s blinking the sleep from his eyes the entire way over, but it’s somewhat pleasant to watch the sun rise with the city. Shinpachi waves and smiles as he walks, calling a greeting to Tama as he reaches the snack shop, and then darts up the stairs and up to the office. He smiles, opening at the front door, ready to face another day. 

The smell hits him like a tsunami.

Thick, hot, pungent, oppressive — familiar, almost, but so wildly pungent that trying to place it is simply out of the question in the moment. Shinpachi retches, staggering back, recoiling in horror.

“Gin-san?” He calls, between his coughs. “Hey Gin-san, what the fuck?”

No one answers. The smell doesn’t dissipate, not in the slightest. The street below is louder than the hall in front of him. All signs point towards a clear issue, one that Shinpachi is not equipped to deal with this early on a Wednesday morning. One that Shinpachi, frankly, doesn’t _want_ to deal with, ever, no matter the time nor place.

But anxiety twists in his gut, and images flash through his head. Bodies, blood, wounded, dead, Sadaharu, Kagura, _Gin-san—_

Shinpachi holds his breath and walks inside. 

He lets it go, eventually. The smell doesn’t get better, but his body adjusts. It’s disgusting, but no longer nauseating. Still, Shinpachi gingerly works his way inside. Slowly, out of fear and caution and looming uncertainty. Urgently, out of worry and concern and looming anxiety. He faces the inner door.

“I’m coming in!” He announces. No one responds. He slides the door open.

It’s like the gateway to a nightmare.

Sadaharu, in the corner, curled up and shuddering. Kagura, on the couch, splayed out and pale. Gin-san, on the floor, face down and hardly even breathing. 

And everywhere, _everywhere,_ piles and piles of vomit.

Shinpachi almost throws up himself. Distantly, he recalls a raunchy magazine and an advice column about blowjobs that he probably shouldn’t have read. He squeezes his thumb, closes his eyes and exhales a shaky breath. And then he looks again.

Sadaharu, in the corner, curled up and shuddering. Kagura, on the couch, splayed out and pale. Gin-san, on the floor, face down and hardly even breathing.

Once more—

Sadaharu, in the corner, curled up and shuddering. Kagura, on the couch, splayed out and pale. A small pink puddle just behind the couch. Gin-san, on the floor, face down and hardly even breathing.

Wait.

What?

As best as he can, Shinpachi tries to look at the puddle without moving from his position. Like in a click and point adventure game. Why couldn’t humans develop the zoom function? He leans, squints, analyzes. 

Pink. Almost viscous. Smells both sweet and sour. A little further back, a section of damp cardboard.

Shinpachi flashes back. Vividly, suddenly, rapidly. He had been clearing out the fridge. An emergency tampon call from his sister. He had rushed out the office, job half done. A single command called over his shoulder. 

_“Don’t touch the strawberry milk!”_

With a weak groan, Gin-san lifts his face. “P-pacchi-boy.” He groans. His skin is almost white as milk. Vomit is smeared around his mouth. “H-help…”

Shinpachi leaves the premises. 

He returns, about ten minutes later. He’s wearing a hazmat suit and carrying the heaviest of duty cleaning supplies. It takes him hours to deal with everything. It is awful. It is, the _worst._

When he’s done, the room is sparkling. The air is fresh and lemon scented. The stains are painstakingly removed. It’s pristine. 

From the couch, Gin-san shifts. “Oi…” He mumbles. Some of the colour has returned to his cheeks. “You’re getting… a bonus…”

Shinpachi blinks, then smiles, warm and content. “Gin-san,” He says gently, leaning in close. “You have to pay me first.”

Another wave of nausea passes over Gin-san’s face. Their Wednesday continues, just the same as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE shinpachi fic PLEASE!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter ](https://twitter.com/KAMONORITOSHI)


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